The Old Senpai
by Adins
Summary: Who would have thought a pair of broken sunglasses could lead to such heartache?
1. Chapter 1, The Lonely Millionaire

**The Old Senpai**

A Nephrite & Makoto Drabble in Five Chapters

By Adins

**Chapter 1 – The Lonely Millionaire**

_**REUTERS, Tokyo**__ – Following an unprecedented single day gain of over 325 in the Asian market the previously unknown Gemini Corporation plans to unveil its landmark organic microchip technology at this year's Progressive Electronics Summit in Los Angeles. This new organic CPU technology promises to redefine how the electronics industry benchmarks processor speed, offering tremendously enhanced performance over even the most powerful of Intel's silicon-based Pentium microprocessor._

_A true rags-to-riches story, Gemini was founded in 1995 by CEO and then-recent college dropout Sanjouin Masato. Under Masato the company entered the dense technological market and through innovation in both research & development and leadership has now poised itself to become a new major competitor against Intel and AMD for dominance in the microprocessor market._

_Continued on page 18._

Long, wavy strands of auburn hair spilled into Masato's face as he scanned the newspaper. A quick hand over his scalp righted the problem and he glanced unfavorably at an open window in his office. It had been a mild, calm spring day a few moments earlier and now it felt like winter was trying to make a return appearance with chilling breezes and an ominous gray sky on the horizon.

The millionaire frowned at the window, not bothering to close it, and leaned back in his chair, winding his fingers together to support his head. The plush, executive leather was impossibly comfortable and he dreaded the thought of having to leave it. The Day Timer in front of him was pathetically trying to motivate him with pages upon pages of hastily scribbled appointments and engagements. His head was pounding with a merciless headache most likely attributed to the absurd amount of champagne he'd indulged in the night before at an Associated Press party in his honor. _Alcohol._ Of all the inventions man hath wrought …

Finding the will to continue, he reached for his coffee mug and downed the bitter black contents in one gulp, spilling quite a few scalding drops on his newspaper in the process. Unfazed, he continued reading down the headlines that for the last several weeks have been about or expressly mentioned him and his company. He smiled every time he saw his name in print. It was a far cry from the endless tongue-lashing and menial labor he'd endured through his education working at his father's welding business. He could only wonder what sort of taste lingered in his father's mouth after having to eat his own words for so many years.

Masato would call and ask if only he knew his own father's phone number.

Perhaps it was the brief thought of his estranged family that drew his eye to the police reports section of the newspaper. He grimaced again noticing a very similar headline as he'd seen for the past few weeks.

_**Local Athlete Found Dead**__– The fifth in a bizarre string of deaths, a prominent local athlete was found dead in her home late Saturday night. Suspicions were raised after the tennis star failed to appear for several media engagements earlier in the day. Police have refused to release the woman's name until the family is notified. As with several other murders in recent weeks the woman was found alone in her home with no visible marks or wounds. Preliminary tests confirmed she was free of poisons or other toxins and her condition at the time of death was similar to that of a coma victim. Police are wary to call the similarities in these cases the work of a serial murderer but local gossip has called the unexplainable deaths the work of a "shadow killer."_

Masato's jaw tightened and his vision crossed for a moment as he tried to force down the knot in his throat. He was generally a peaceful man but something about this story made his head swim with disgust. A brief glimpse was all he saw: a face in terror. It was cloudy and featureless but it was inexplicably burned into his memory as if he was there when that poor girl met her grim end. He shook his head vigorously, forcing himself to focus on the day's tasks ahead.

Taking one last look through the paper he set it aside and walked out of his private office where at least a dozen people were waiting with messages and memos for him. Taking everything in polite stride he eventually found himself in the elevator, and then the lobby, to the spinning doors leading out of Gemini's headquarters. He fumbled with the sunglasses tucked in the inside pocket of his luxuriant blue suit and they eventually found their way to the sidewalk. Before he could bend down and reach for the fallen glasses he was met by a sickly _crunch_ and they were no more.

The perpetrator jumped almost a foot into the air as she stepped off the broken glasses. Sanjouin Masato groaned to himself and looked up at her through squinted eyes, now forced to deal with the blinding midday sun. The first thing he noticed was how tall she was. Even from where he was half-kneeling on the ground he could tell that she easily stood to his chin and Masato was a rather lanky man himself. His heart began to bleed immediately as he saw she was almost on the verge of a seizure she was apologizing so fast and so forcefully. Her chestnut ponytail bounced around her head like a rubber band as repeated her regret over and over.

"What's your name?" he found himself asking as he picked up the smashed remains of his glasses, not particularly perturbed as he could easily buy another pair.

"Kino Makoto, sir!" she cried with a bow, "I'm terribly, terribly sorry. I didn't even see you dropped them until I--"

"Hey, calm down," he said soothingly, "It's just a pair of glasses; it's not a big deal."

"But… but they look really expensive and--" she was cut of again.

"And I can buy a dozen more just like them," he chuckled, enjoying the perks of being a multi millionaire, "What's more important is that you calm down and take a few deep breaths before you pass out."

She nodded her head and tried to breathe normally which proved difficult in the given situation. Masato had to smile to himself having so easily subdued the hysterical girl but his grin immediately disappeared when he noted the clothes she was wearing: a green and white school uniform with a long pleated skirt. He realized that she couldn't be much older than fourteen years old, maybe fifteen or sixteen at a stretch. He suddenly felt extremely self-conscious and became acutely aware of the concerned faces leering at him as people passed by on the busy sidewalk.

Makoto seemed more or less composed but that didn't make him any surer of his next actions. The crowds rushed around them giving them their own personal bubble to inhabit in the middle of the crowded downtown street and as Masato watched them passing by he could only wonder if this schoolgirl even knew whose glasses she'd stepped on. She was intently studying the ground at her feet, apparently wondering what the next course of action should be.

"I guess you're on your way to school to be in such a hurry," Masato asked apprehensively and the girl nodded in reply, "Where do you go to school?"

"I go to a private school in the Juuban district," she told him quickly.

"Juuban?" he asked astonished, "That's two or three miles on the other side of the city!"

"I know," she replied sorrowfully, "Usually I take a bus across town but I was late this morning and I don't, uh…"

She trailed off and Masato asked, "What? Why don't you grab a taxi over?"

"I don't really have the money …" she said distantly.

"Couldn't your parents give you the change to get a ride across town?" he asked.

Makoto's face fell slightly as if she'd had to answer this question dozens of times before but she simply answered, "I live alone."

"Oh," he replied tersely, wondering just how much he'd hurt her while making a genuine ass of himself.

"I'm very sorry about your sunglasses," she quickly returned to apologizing, "I could get them fixed for you if you'd--"

Again Masato cut her off, "I already told you not to worry," he took a breath and sighed, "But I'm sure this whole thing has made you unacceptably late for school so why don't you let me give you a ride?"

Makoto's eyes went wide and she stuttered, "What?"

"Trust me, I know the value of a good education." The college dropout smiled, "My driver is one of the best in the city. He can have us in Juuban in less than ten minutes."

"No, I couldn't ask you to go out of your way for me," she refused politely, "Besides, I'm the one who should be doing something for you after running over your glasses!"

"I'm not going to ask you again to forget about it!" Masato ordered in a placatory manner, "And it's my fault for dropping them like an idiot in the first place."

Makoto wanted to refuse again but taking in the millionaire's stern glance somehow began to soothe her and she relented. Masato smiled and voiced his appreciation as he led her to the edge of the sidewalk where a sleek looking limousine stood waiting. Inside she was met with the most luxurious, elegant vehicle she'd ever laid eyes on. The rich brown leather seats were accented with numerous gold and silver appointments. The seats wrapped around the interior of the vehicle in a U shape and a low table sat in the middle currently littered with newspapers, memos, and the occasional _Guitar Player_ magazine.

"I'm kind of a wannabe rock star," Masato confessed with an impish grin and shouted to his driver, "Juuban district!"

"I don't really know what to say," Makato said slowly, "I don't know how to thank you, I … I don't even know your name!"

"My name is Sanjouin Masato," he introduced himself and reached out to shake her hand, "It's a pleasure, Mako-chan."

"Mako-chan?" she asked herself, obviously struck by the fact that he'd be so openly friendly with her. She immediately shook her head and tried to compose her thoughts and said, "I think I've seen you on television before."

"Yeah that stupid box really likes me," he replied evenly, "I'm a rather successful businessman."

"I would imagine you'd have to be to drive in a car like this," she replied, marveling at the details of the limo.

"I don't lie to myself about my success and ask whether or not I deserve it," he explained, "I can't afford to be second guessing myself all the time and that's also why I can't afford to get hung up on a silly thing like broken sunglasses."

"I really am sorry," she stated with finality, obviously wanting to drop the subject as well, "Although I feel guiltier about having you drive me across town."

"It's nothing, really." He said and gestured out the tinted window, "I'm going to be all over the city today so it's not like I'm going out of my way."

"Oh." Makoto replied somewhat dejectedly.

"No! No, no, no!" Masato mentally slapped a hand to his head as he tried to repeal his last statement, "That's not what I meant! I mean, I'm going out of my way, but, uh … I mean, I'd probably eventually be on this side of the city anyway!"

"It's all right," Makoto said laughing lightly, "It's just nice to know that there's still people out there who, um …"

Again she trailed off and Masato asked, "Who … what?"

"People who will unconditionally help other people," Makoto finished, "It's nice to know there's a couple genuinely good people left."

"I think there's probably more than a few," Masato said cheerfully, impressed by how worldly wise this young woman was.

"Sir, we're here," the gruff voiced driver suddenly announced.

"Wow that really _was_ fast!" Makoto exclaimed as she saw her school building loom into view nearby.

"I told you, he's one of the best!" Masato proudly announced as the driver opened his door for him from the outside.

The unlikely duo stepped out of the limousine in front of Makoto's school where the majority of students outside in Phys Ed class stopped dead in their tracks to gape at the tall girl and her stunningly handsome companion. Her face flared bright red immediately and Masato chuckled as he placed himself between Makoto and the leering children.

"I'm sure you'll be the center of attention today," Masato said to her.

"Yeah, I guess," she replied less than enthusiastically, "I don't really relish the thought of having to explain this situation over and over again to the whole school. I'll have enough problems at it is explaining why I'm so late."

"Here," he said and hastily scribbled something on a piece of paper, "If your teachers give you any problems just tell them to call my office. I'll let them know what happened so we can use the sunglasses as your cover story."

"I… I don't understand," Makoto stammered, "Shouldn't this be going the other way? I'm sure you're late for some kind of meeting or something now."

"Probably," he chuckled back, "But like I said I'm sure there's more than a few of those 'genuinely good people' around, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't do my part."

"I still don't know what to say," she said while looking at the ground and then her eyes, shimmering emerald, shot straight up into his, "I have to repay you."

"No, that's quite all--"

Now it was her turn to cut him off, "Do you like curry?"

"I, uh … what?" he tripped on his words, surprised by the question before it registered, "Yes, actually."

"Well then I'll cook you up a batch of my world-famous pork curry," she announced and winked at him, "I use an exotic South American _annatto_ seed in it that gives it a real kick so I hope you like it spicy."

"You really don't have to trouble yourself," he said warily both fearing for her own monetary security and that of his gastrointestinal system.

"Nonsense!" she shouted defiantly, "I know you're probably a very busy man so I'll just drop it off at your big office building on my way to school tomorrow."

"Um … all right," he acquiesced without much effort, "You'd better get going before they start sending people out to look for you."

"I will, thanks again," she agreed with a bow and began to back away, "Thank you so much."

"Anytime." He said and waved goodbye to her as she deftly ascended the stairs of her school, never taking her eyes off him until she passed through the doors.

Sanjouin Masato had to smile in spite of himself. Makoto certainly was young but she seemed to possess an ageless wisdom, as though she'd lived more than one lifetime. His thoughts drifted back to their brief conversation and he assumed that she lived alone because she was either an orphan, or her parents had for some reason disowned her. He could not imagine why anyone would refuse such a gentle, beautiful creature so he figured the first option was more viable.

He could appreciate her reluctance to allow him to driver her to school. Many times he'd refused much of the same aid when he was working graveyard shifts to help finance his failed college effort. His parents had decided long ago that they were not going to support him in any of his endeavors leaving Masato to forage for himself in the untamed urban jungle. It was only through sheer determination and ceaseless hard work that he'd attained the success his father had always told him would forever be out of reach.

Makoto's smile held no agenda or double meaning; she was simply a friendly girl who, like him, was alone in the world. For all his wealth, friends, and success, Masato was a very lonesome man. A good deal of wine in the system could spell the difference between whether or not he brought a woman back to his bedroom after a party but the following mornings always left him feeling empty and worse. He shuffled through his pockets again and pulled out the broken sunglasses and smiled. For as foolish as her irrepressible need to repay him was Masato would indulge her. Perhaps he'd be surprised and find that she was a wonderful cook, or perhaps he'd end up eating a bowl of unbearably spicy, rubber-tasting curry but he would enjoy it either way just knowing he'd helped her.

Cries of unrequited love and attraction from the Phys Ed fields snapped Masato from his daydream and he sheepishly turned to wave at the throng of adoring adolescents before climbing back into his limo and speeding off into the city. The rest of the day through media interviews, meetings, and mixers he couldn't live down the anxious feeling of seeing what kind of culinary concoction Makoto was going to bring to him the following day and he wasn't entirely sure that he _wanted_ to put it out of his mind.

* * *

The girl screamed as she ran. Drops of rain pelted her face and her shoes kicked up sprays in the collecting puddles. A wall loomed in front of her heralding a dead end. She moaned and shrieked in panic as she searched the walls for something to grab on to or a door that would lead her from her terror. There was nothing nearby but a dumpster full of rotting plants but even if she wanted to she lacked the strength to climb up and hide inside. The case of her violin clattered loudly on the ground as she dropped it and the young redhead collapsed to her knees crying for the entire world to hear.

A pale light from the moon breaking through the layers of rain clouds cast a horrifying shadow over her. Her assailant glanced down at her through dark brown eyes that seemed to burn around the edges with a red flame. The man cracked his knuckles through white dress gloves and the thin slivers of his teeth stretched across his shrouded face in a sneering grin. The girl shook and shuddered beneath his terrifying gaze and a brief streak of lightning illuminated the space around him revealing a uniform of military gray with strange epaulettes on his shoulders which were almost covered by his long, billowing auburn hair which somehow remained dry in spite of the pounding rain.

"What do you want with me?" she screamed at him and tried to stand.

The man didn't speak as he reached down with his right hand and clamped his powerful fingers around her throat, lifting her off the ground to hang in his grip as though she weren't even there. Her hands shot up to his and unsuccessfully tried to pry his iron grip away from her throat. She pounded her fists into his arm but her blows continued to weaken as the burning in her lungs increased. The man's only reaction was a satisfied, malevolent smile.

"P- please!" she begged hoarsely, "Let me go!"

"Silly girl," he suddenly spoke in a deep, rasping voice that was strangely recognizable, "If I did that my Queen would be displeased."

He stretched out his left hand far away from his side and wisps of blue energy like smoke began to coalesce at his fingertips, drawn directly from the body of the helpless redhead. She opened her mouth to scream again but no sound emerged. Her eyes darted back and forth and spasmed in her head before rolling back lifeless. She hung limp in the man's grasp as the wisps of energy continued to travel from her, forming into a shimmering azure ball hovering just above his hand.

Finally after her life had ebbed the attacker released his grip on her throat and the girl crumpled to the wet ground. The Cheshire grin never wavered from the murderer's face and just as he had come he quickly receded leaving absolutely no indication that he was ever there at all. Sirens could be heard quickly approaching but the hapless police would never find him and another dead woman would fuel the gossip about the mysterious "shadow killer."

That suited him just fine, for now.


	2. Chapter 2, Pride, Prejudice, and Curry

**Chapter Two – Pride, Prejudice, and Curry**

As Makoto stood before the revolving doors of the Gemini Corporation's headquarters she suddenly realized that the skyscraper was a whole lot bigger than she remembered it from the previous day. The sidewalk was crowded and people shuffled around her as they frequently cast disapproving glances on the tall girl for blocking their way. Clutched at her side was a white paper bag that contained the curry she'd spent most of the night slaving over.

_"This is so stupid."_ She thought to herself, staring up at the imposing building where Sanjouin Masato dwelt somewhere inside, _"Why am I even here? He probably wouldn't even recognize me."_

Regardless of her apprehension she started moving forward and walked through the revolving doors to enter the lobby. The room looked more like the reception desk of a ritzy hotel than a place to conduct business. The ceiling was exceptionally high with glass chandeliers hanging on long chains. Either side of the entryway was framed by sitting areas featuring low tables and an array of comfortable looking furniture. At the far end of the lobby stood a marble-countered desk in a wide U-shape where a lone, bespectacled young redheaded woman sat typing on an unseen keyboard.

Makoto made her way in awe across the room garnering a few amused looks from the business people that shuffled past her. She walked up to the reception desk and set down her bag which drew the typing woman away from her computer. She quickly scanned Makoto with intense, calculating eyes and then looked over at her bag from which the spicy scent of pork curry was already beginning to seep. The receptionist smiled cheerfully and tapped her mouse.

"Can I help you, miss?" she asked politely.

"Um…" Makoto stalled and forced herself from biting her nails, "M- my name is Kino Makoto. I just wanted to drop this off for--"

"Oh, yes!" the receptionist suddenly cried, interrupting her, "Masato has been expecting you!"

"Expecting me?" Makoto asked, bewildered.

The receptionist quickly made a note on her screen and pointed to a door to the right of the desk, "Just take the elevator to the thirty-second floor, head down the hallway to the third door on your right. That'll be his office."

She immediately jumped up from her seat and expertly wove a black lanyard around Makoto's neck. From it hung a white identification badge that read "Guest" and had the reception's signature in the validation box. The redhead smiled happily again and gestured to the elevator door as if to say _"Don't keep him waiting!"_

Makoto thanked her appropriately, grabbing her precious cargo, and slowly moved to the elevator. Hazarding a glance over her shoulder she saw that the receptionist's chin was now perched on her hand, gazing dreamily at the departing teenager. Makoto could only assume the receptionist wished to trade places with her but she didn't dwell on it for long as the doors slid open with a _ding_ and she stepped inside.

The ride to the thirty-second floor was uneventful and when the doors opened again she was met by a very sterile looking hallway. On either side were bustling cubicles filled with office workers typing away or shouting into their headsets. A few people brushed past her but paid her little heed as she quickly made her way down the hallway to the door she was instructed to find. It looked cold and stoic much like the rest of this largely uninviting office complex but she timidly reached out and tapped the door several times. The door drifted open with a creak a few inches.

She heard a hoarse voice growl, "What?"

Immediately put off and fearing that she'd picked the wrong door she took a step back and squeaked out, "I'm sorry to disturb you, sir!"

The person inside could be heard jumping up from a chair and practically sprinting to the door. The featureless black slab swung wide open and Makoto was met by the towering, handsome features of Sanjouin Masato although he looked a little more disheveled than she remembered from the day before. His tense expression relaxed considerably when he saw her and the man smiled warmly, extending his hand.

"I'm sorry, Mako-chan," he apologized, "I didn't mean to snap at you."

"It's all right," she said and shyly presented the white bag, "I brought you my curry like I promised."

"I can't wait!" he exclaimed and stepped to one side, inviting the young woman into his office, "I skipped breakfast just in case I wouldn't be hungry when you came by."

"Really?" she asked, flattered, and followed him into his office, "I shouldn't stay all that long. I was really just planning on dropping this off for you."

"Nonsense," he told her, "A chef needs to see that her hard work is appreciated."

Makoto couldn't vocalize a reply, overtaken with embarrassment and sudden awe at the sheer grandeur of Masato's office. It was a huge room with three walls, the fourth being a seamless pane of glass that ran from the floor to the ceiling. Behind his desk hung a giant painting of the Milky Way galaxy framed in gold with several book cases along the wall opposite the window. She glanced to her immediate right and saw three electric guitars hanging on pegs with brass plates beneath them. Upon closer inspection she saw that the guitars were individually autographed with the names reading: Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck, and Pete Townshend.

"Hero worship," Masato confessed and gestured to a table surrounded by several mats nearby.

"I hope you don't mind my paranoia," she started and began pulling the meal out of her bag, "But you seem busy, or at least a little preoccupied."

"Oh, I, uh …" he stalled and ran a hand through his hair, "I kind of have a lot on my mind at the moment," he immediately waved a hand as if to wipe the statement away, "Don't worry, though, I've been looking forward to seeing you, uh … your _cooking_, I mean. I've been looking forward to this all day."

Makoto laughed in spite of the redness spreading across her face. It was strange to see a man such as Sanjouin Masato getting hung up on his words even if he was bogged down with a lengthy to-do list, as she assumed he was. A curious heat burnt in her chest at the sound of his unsteady laughter intermingled with her own. Quickly trying to focus her thoughts away from the imposing, powerfully attractive man in front of her she arranged the meal she'd prepared and sat down across from him at the table.

"Smells delicious," he said politely.

"Now remember, I warned you that it's pretty spicy," she reminded him and steepled her hands as if in prayer, "So please don't sue me if you burn your tongue off, okay?"

"Only if you promise to call an ambulance for me if I pass out," he answered.

"Deal!" she chirped and presented a bowl of curry to her host.

Masato accepted it with a smile and glanced down at the spicy-smelling concoction. It was certainly much better looking that he had expected. He'd suffered through plenty of elementary school bake sales and pot luck dinners throughout his philanthropist career. Makoto watched expectantly as he shoveled a bit of the rice mixture into his apprehensive mouth. True to her word the curry had a definite bite to it but what a delicious sensation! He raised an eyebrow in surprise even as his brow started to dampen and after three or four more mouthfuls he glanced up at a positively beaming Makoto.

"This is really good." he choked out.

"I'm glad you like it," she replied, delighted.

"No, I mean like, _really_ good!" he repeated with emphasis, "I'm not just saying that. I'm really impressed!"

Makoto nodded her thanks again and, giggling softly, raised a clear glass to his field of vision and asked, "Water?"

He only smiled back and gratefully accepted, dousing the fire on his tongue with the cool liquid. He relaxed a little and the two of them ate in silence for a few moments before he finally asked the inevitable question:

"How did you learn to cook so well?"

"Well …" she started, trying to look away from the man's innocently inquisitive blue eyes, "I had to learn to provide for myself after my--" she stopped mid sentence and looked up at him, "--after my parents passed away."

"Oh," he replied, immediately regretting his question, "I'm sorry, Mako-chan."

"No, it's all right," she replied with a smile, "I usually don't talk about it, but I felt like telling you for some reason."

"It might be because I can sympathize with you," he replied, "My mother died when I was very young from a recurring illness she caught from a birth complication."

He continued: "My father loved her more than life itself and it crushed him when she died. Before she passed away I have brief memories of my dad being a vibrant, outgoing, cheerful if somewhat eccentric man. Afterwards he became morose and disconnected from the world around him. The only thing he could do was work and pass the time in the little welding shop out in the country that he ran."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Sanjouin-sama." Makoto said.

Masato had to quickly reach up to rub the bridge of his nose and turn towards the shadows to hide the blushing on his cheeks. _Sanjouin-sama_, he repeated in his mind. She looked so unbearably cute when she said it …

"Are you all right?" she asked from across the table.

"Yes, fine …" he righted himself and continued his story, "I helped him at the shop when I was younger and he kept telling me that it was my right and my duty to carry on after he was gone. He never wanted me to be anything more than he was; I guess as some kind of psychological punishment."

"What does he think of you now?" Makoto asked innocently.

"I don't know," Masato answered, "I haven't spoken to him in about a decade."

"Why not?" she almost demanded, her emerald eyes threatening to skewer him.

"My father and I were never particularly close," he explained, "But even so we're similar in many ways. My family has a history of producing stubborn, arrogant men."

"You don't seem very stubborn or arrogant to me," Makoto observed.

"You don't know me well enough, Mako-chan." he said with a sigh and stood up from the table, "You don't build a company like this from scratch by backing down and submitting to the lowest common denominator. You have to stand tough, resolute, and never compromise your goals."

"You don't strike me as the confrontational type," she said, failing in her attempt to keep the affection from her voice.

"Everyone has a mean streak." he stated with unnerving finality.

"Sorry." she said softly and they sat in silence for a few moments, "I guess I just have this feeling that I carry around that nobody should be alone."

"Trust me I've thought about calling him," Masato said dismissively, "Every time I try I end up hearing his abrasive voice in my head telling me that I'd never be any better than a welder's apprentice and I get too pissed off to follow through."

"He may have been wrong about you, but if I were in your place I wouldn't want to just shut him out," she counseled him whether she was welcome to or not.

"I don't mean to be rude, Makoto," he said seriously, "But I don't think my relationship with my father is anything you should concern yourself with."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," she apologized and she spotted the doorway in the reflection of the finely polished table.

She was getting ready to announce her hasty departure when she noticed a dark green sculpture sitting on a small table near the room-spanning window. It was a heavily embellished jade dragon whose contorted, scaly body was twisted into a very familiar shape: the big dipper. Masato noticed her eyes were fixed on the object so he motioned for her to stand and get a better look.

"I've never seen a jade statue like this before," she said marveling at the partially transparent, olive colored statue.

"It's made of soft jade," he explained, "That's why you can sort of see through it. It's called nephrite; the same material as my necklace, actually."

He reached under the collar of his white shirt and pulled out a green pendant on a black chain, displaying his toned, muscular chest for a moment in the same motion that served to deepen the shade of red on Makoto's face. The pendant was a simple circle containing a cross, otherwise known as the sun cross: the astrological symbol for the Earth. Several other astral-related objects jumped to her attention including the antique looking glasses and sextants that littered some of the rest of the shelves in the room.

"You must have an interest in astronomy," she mused as she made the connection between the big dipper dragon and the huge galaxy painted behind his desk.

"Astrology, actually. I guess you could say I'm kind of an amateur stargazer," Masato told her, "I'm more interested in the mythical than the mundane, especially having to deal with so much science and stuff with my job. Sometimes when I get disillusioned I just look up at the stars and contemplate the thought that they might actually know more about what's going on down here than we do."

"I don't know if I like the idea that I'm not in charge," she said.

"Well, I don't mean that the stars control us, per se." Masato clarified himself, "Think of them as being, I don't know, celestial road signs or something."

"I just don't think that a burning ball of gas could tell me all that much about myself that I don't already know," she philosophized.

"You know, you're remarkably deep for still being in primary school," Masato complimented her.

"I kind of have a lot of free time to just sit around and think," She said, "And speaking of school, I really should get going. I'm late enough as it is.

"My fault," Masato apologized, "I insisted that you stick around so now I insist that you let me give you a ride again."

"No, Sanjouin-sama," she denied him politely, "I won't make you go out of your way again for me."

"Why?" he pouted, "Would you feel that you'd have to pay me back with curry again if I did?"

"Partly, yes," she replied with a wink.

"It's a vicious cycle I've begun, isn't it?" he joked back.

"I really have to get going," she stated regretfully and her perky tone mellowed considerably, "I'm glad you liked the curry."

"And I'm glad you stopped by," he thanked her from halfway across the room as she continued to slowly back towards the doorway, "Mako-chan?"

"Yes?" she chirped without a second's delay.

"I, uh …" Masato stalled and scratched his head in apprehension, "I'm glad I got to see you again," he lifted his eyes to hers which looked almost ready to burst into tears, "Feel free to stop in if you're ever in the neighborhood."

"I'd like that," she squeaked back.

Without another word she ducked out of the room and waved as she departed, leaving the door to the room halfway open. As soon as Masato heard the telltale _ding_ of the elevator he jumped half of his own impressive height into the air, throwing up his fist like a victorious athlete and stifled his juvenile cry of testosterone-fueled accomplishment. The lonely millionaire paced back and forth for a few moments trying to work the lingering hysteria from his system. How could Makoto, a girl who could practically be his little sister, have such an effect on him after only two days? Masato collapsed contentedly into his office chair and spun childishly in a circle enjoying the glowing feeling of infatuation steadily building.

A steady thought began to build within Masato's head and before he knew it the telephone receiver was in his hand and he was thumbing through his rolodex looking for a number. Several digits later the phone began its electronic tolling and he heard the greeting of an older gentleman on the other end.

"Hello, Takeshi," Masato spoke into the receiver.

There was a tense moment of silence before the man asked, "Masato?"

"Yeah," the millionaire sighed back and settled down into his seat, "How have you been, dad?"

* * *

A shadow stalked outside Sanjouin Masato's office. Sunlight from the windows and the artificial glow of the recessed lighting seemed not to affect the black stain at all. A young girl dressed in green exited Masato's office and raced towards the elevator with a glowing grin of elation plastered on her face. Red eyes roved over her athletic figure as it was whisked away in the elevator car. The thought lingered for several moments to cut the cable on the elevator car and listen excitedly to the mechanical roar and futile screams as the girl crashed to her grisly death thirty stories below but there were more pressing matters to attend to …

The door was left open and the shadow seeped inside to stalk and sulk across the walls and across the floor. Sanjouin Masato sat behind his desk having that one conversation he'd put off for the last decade. The shadowy lurker scoffed at the man, reviling his sudden change of heart in phoning his father. He sat at the edge of Masato's desk and listened:

"How's life treating you?" Masato's father asked flatly.

"I met a very interesting girl the other day, actually," Masato spoke into the phone, "And before you even ask, no she's not a prostitute."

"I wasn't even thinking that!" his father snapped, "Is that why you called me after what, ten years? To gloat over your old man with a new prize?"

"You always have to look on the dark side, don't you?" Masato snapped, "I can't believe you're still copping this attitude with me! Can you just be proud of something I do for once in your life?"

"Be proud of you?" his father asked, stunned, "Where the hell do you get off?"

"I built a multi-billion dollar company _by myself_ from the ground up, achieved more than anyone in our family has in a hundred years, and you're still treating me as your errand boy like you did in the shop!" Masato hollered.

"Errand boy? Why you--" Takeshi stammered on the other end, "Boy, I made you the man you are! I taught you self-reliance, to stand your ground, to work hard for what don't come easy!"

"You taught me that I should never aspire to be anything greater than you were!" Masato accosted him.

"Your mother, rest her soul, would tan your hide to hear you speaking to me like this!"

"My mother is the reason you shut yourself off from me!" Masato cried.

"Don't you _dare_ blame her!" his father shouted back, "You've always had a place here with me! It was your idea to run off, drop out of school, and do what you've done with your life!"

"You say it as if I'm a washed-out alcoholic without a penny to my name!" Masato thundered, "I've done all of this without help from anyone, without a handout, and without praise from the one man I would have hoped would be proud of me."

"So what do you want from me? A letter of appreciation? A thank you card?" his father chided him, "I _am _proud of you, Masato."

"You …" he stalled, "You are?"

"Of course I am!" Takeshi screamed, insulted, "Every day I see your name in the newspapers and couldn't be happier for you, but it doesn't change the fact that you forsake your life here."

"So that's it, huh?" Masato asked, seemingly disappointed, "You're jealous."

"I am not!"

"Fine, whatever dad," Masato dismissed him, "You and are I too much alike to be having this argument. Neither one of us is going to back down."

"I've got no reason to back down!" his father continued.

"All right," Masato caved, "I've got to get going."

"Wait, Masato!" his father suddenly shouted in a much softer tone.

"Yeah?"

"What made you decide to call me after so long?" he asked.

Masato thought of Mako-chan's words, "I guess I was feeling kind of homesick. It's wrong for anyone to feel alone."

"What makes you think I'm alone?" his father chuckled unsteadily.

"Who else was there besides me and mom?" Masato asked.

There was silence on the line before Takeshi said, "True."

"There's no reason that you couldn't have called me, you know." Masato told him.

"Your number isn't in the phone book," his father replied.

He smiled fondly, "Well at least you tried."

The two men laughed together for the first time in ages before Masato asked, "Would you be willing to get together some weekend?"

"Well that all depends," his father replied, "Will I get to meet this 'interesting girl' of yours?"

"Um …" Masato stalled and scratched his head, "We're not, like, going out or anything. She's pretty young; I just met her by accident, actually."

"Well she must be having some kind of effect on you if you decided to up and call your estranged old man!" he responded tactfully.

"Maybe …" Masato trailed off.

"I would like to see you, son." His father surprised him, "Maybe we could work some of our shit out a little better in person."

"We'd still end up screaming at each other." Masato observed.

"Yeah, but the phone is so impersonal," his father joked, "Face-to-face you can't hide if I have to tackle you."

"I'm probably a lot bigger than you nowadays," Masato replied.

"Size matters not!" his father declared.

"All right, I've got to get back to work. We'll plan on something," Masato said finally, "It was …" he stopped and choked on his words.

"It was good talking to you, too." His father finished for him.

Both phones clicked off at the same time leaving Masato sitting in a contented state of melancholy behind his desk. The lurking shadow watched and listened attentively; how utterly heartwarming, how noble, how despicably sweet… The creature groaned and heaved with disgust at the two men's conversation. Masato suddenly became aware of another presence in the room and jumped from his desk, scanning the dark corners of his office but his search would ultimately be fruitless. The shadow reached out as if to guide Masato's hand which landed on a newspaper.

He pulled the pages open to read another unsettling headline:

**Newlywed Couple Found Dead in Park – **_Another pair of victims in what now appears to be a string of serial killings. A newlywed couple whose names are still being withheld by police were found dead in a south city park early this morning. Police investigators say the couple was found together like the other victims with no visible signs of a struggle and no wounds on either person's body. _

Masato saw the couple in his mind's eye: a young, handsome man and his beautiful wife starting their new life together after a fairytale wedding only a few weeks before. He dropped to his knees and clutched his chest wherein his heart was beating so rapidly he was sure it would burst from his ribs. His eyes clouded as he searched the room until his gaze landed on the jade dragon Makoto had been so interested in. The jade dragon … the nephrite sculpture …

His head snapped abruptly upward and stared directly at the shadowy stalker that lingered in his office but still he couldn't see or hear anything. Feeling exceptionally ill he dashed from his office to a nearby bathroom, followed by a half dozen concerned office workers as he wretched the discontent from his body. The shadow crept down the walls and across the floor to his desk where its wispy, ethereal form stretched and solidified into a tangible form: billowing brown hair and fiery red eyes sat atop his angular features.

He glanced down at the notes scribbled from Masato's conversation with his father and read the address of the Sanjouin family household in the country. Teeth like fangs twisted into a sinister grin and he waved a gloved hand over the papers and writing like fire burned into the white letterhead. Satisfied with his message the shadowy figure disappeared with a contented chuckle just as Masato reentered his office. He groggily paced over to his desk and collapsed in the chair, now accompanied by a severe headache and an involuntarily empty stomach.

As he rubbed his temples his eyes fell to the notes scattered on his desk when a feeling of uncertainty gripped him. A word was scrawled on his tablet in his own handwriting that he hadn't remembered jotting down. It seemed perfectly natural and yet out of place at the same time. He must have absentmindedly written it while talking to his father but for what reason he couldn't fathom. A reminder? He remembered mentioning it to Makoto, but it wasn't a terribly big deal. He felt as though it was going to end up bugging him all day. Just one word:

Nephrite.


	3. Chapter 3, The Old Senpai

**Chapter Three – The Old Senpai**

Makoto had trouble accepting the notion that her luck had been this good.

Nearly a month had passed since the debonair, if somewhat cavalier, Sanjouin Masato entered her life. It had been a month since she inadvertently crushed a pair of Oakley sunglasses in her mad rush to make it to school on time. Over the month she'd found herself time and time again making "accidental" detours to the Gemini Corporation's headquarters to sneak a peek at the handsome millionaire and he'd been more than accommodating.

Together they had sat and talked for hours on end about everything and nothing. Masato had an incredible wealth of nothing to talk about and it enchanted the school girl to the core. The way he talked about chords and guitars, the passion in his voice when he tried to phonetically replicate a famous riff, she was enamored with him. He too seemed to return the affection as they grew closer and closer. A friendly hug here or a jab on the shoulder there had evolved into a clumsy kiss, then a daily peck on the cheek. She reached up and touched her face, which was burning as hot as the sun.

Whatever she'd previously been occupying her time with was suddenly replaced by his face in her mind's eye. Never in her life had someone had such a paralyzing effect on her strict, regimented patterns of thought. Makoto sprawled out on her couch and studied the recessed lights in her ceiling allowing her thoughts to drift into hopeless romantic notions of what sort of sparkles they would create in his dark eyes …

"Masato-senpai …" she moaned into a pillow.

She'd so dearly wanted to use that term for so many lonely years. It was due time.

She suddenly shot straight up into a sitting position and sighed aloud. There was nothing for it now, she _had_ to see him. The weekend was fast approaching and they'd likely be together for most of it, but it was still too far off in her mind. She couldn't possibly wait until tomorrow morning. She glanced at the clock which read 4:30 PM. He'd still be in his office. Masato had an awful tendency to work strange hours, sometimes not leaving his office until well after midnight, or working from the waking hours of the morning until noon.

In the month they'd been dating she realized they'd never once gone anywhere in the evening. She resolved to change that with an unexpected visit and set about trying to find clothes appropriate for the situation. She would appear in his doorway, dressed to impressed, and she would sweep him off his feet with the announcement of a romantic night of dinner and dancing. She had no idea where they'd end up going, but that was a detail best left until after the wardrobe was in order.There was little debate on the subject and she quickly chose her favorite evening dress of emerald silk.

As she stood before her mirror she stopped to unashamedly admire herself. Makoto had to smile; she'd grown up to be an exceptionally pretty girl, a far cry from the mud-covered, torn denim tomboy she had been in her childhood. The tomboy … that wasn't something she needed to remind herself of. Being uncommonly tall was enough of a headache. She assumed it was because of her rocky upbringing and living half of her life without parents to mold and shape her. She had naturally gravitated towards boys, wanting to run and get dirty with them while other girls her age were playing with dolls safely tucked away in their rooms.

She narrowed her eyes at the mirror and vowed to bury what was left of that side of her. She'd been getting into plenty of trouble in school for her masculine, confrontational demeanor but for Sanjouin Masato she would change. He would see her for the person she truly wished to be: the romantic, the delicate feminine type. She needed someone to be there for her, to hold her and reassure her. She needed someone who knew that her fighter's heart was a defense mechanism to obscure her greatest insecurity: loneliness.

There would be plenty of time for all that later, though. Right now she had a mission to fulfill and she'd be damned if a little thing like self-depreciation was going to get in her way. She looked herself over again and performed a last minute spit-shine of her golden stud earrings that she wore absolutely everywhere. Some day she vowed she would go shopping for a new pair but it just hadn't happened yet. A quick line of lipstick and she was ready.

Makoto grabbed her jacket and her purse and headed to the door with the full intention of paralyzing Masato with her beauty and presence and making him hers once and for all. Halfway down the hallway she stopped and ran back to her room, taking off her sneakers and grumbling discontentedly to herself as she rummaged through her closet trying to find the shoes she'd forgotten …

* * *

Nephrite, a type of jade, is a variety of actinolite, a calcium rich amphibole.

Nephrite jade is an ornamental stone used in carvings, beads, and jewelry.

Its name is derived from _lapis nephriticus_, the Latin version of the Spanish _piedra de ijada_, meaning "stone of the flanks."

Nephrite can be found in translucent white to very light yellow as well as a variety of green colors.

In the hands of skilled artisans Nephrite is considered more precious than gold or silver.

"That's precious …" Masato groaned as he scanned the Wikipedia article.

He scratched his head and leaned back in his chair, contemplating the ceiling as his fingers traced a trail through his messy hair. Almost a month had passed since the mysterious message appeared on his desk and he was still at a loss as to its meaning. He'd spend weeks on end poring over books, internet articles, and encyclopedias learning everything he could about the form of jade that was causing him such unrest. He could probably start introducing himself as Sanjouin Masato, Nephrite Expert. If his ventures with the Gemini Corporation ever fell through he felt confident he could pursue a career in mineralogy.

He looked over his desk and grimaced. There were library books piled high, long past due, chunks of jade he'd procured from local museums to study, miscellaneous newspaper clippings, internet printouts, magazines, just about anything and everything you could conceive of somehow relating to the mineral of his interest. He leaned his head in his hand and sighed wondering just how many hours he'd put into this search. Where was it supposed to lead him? Where did it end? Why did he even care in the first place?

As was his prerogative Masato decided to leave the mess for another day and he stood up, fetching his coat, and headed for the elevator. He almost collided mid-stride with Makoto as she came scurrying up the hallway to meet him.

"Masato-senpai!" she gasped when she saw him.

"Mako-chan?" he greeted inquisitively, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you, of course!" she answered and tried to catch her breath from the sprint she'd made all the way from her apartment, "I thought you might want to go out somewhere tonight."

"Tonight?" he asked unsteadily, "Uh, well …"

"Did you know we've never gone out together at night?" Makoto asked, "I thought it would be romantic to go to dinner somewhere and maybe catch a movie."

"Dinner, like where?" Masato asked and then answered himself, "No, wait! There's this great take-out place I know a few blocks over."

"Sanjouin Masato!" Makoto suddenly snapped and Masato likewise snapped to attention, "When your girlfriend asks you to take her out to dinner she doesn't mean stopping off for take out!"

"I'm sorry, Mako-chan, but …" Masato stuttered and tried to hide the embarrassment on his face, "It's just, I didn't think we'd … you know?"

"No, I don't know!" she stated loudly, "Are you ashamed to be seen with me in public or something?"

"No!" he shouted, almost leaping at her, "No, that's not it at all, Mako-chan!" he shifted nervously and tried to salvage the situation, "Look, it's complicated, but the night life is kind of where business people like me have our greatest exposure."

"So what?" she demanded, "Does it bother you that much that people might see us together?"

"Makoto …" he started and began pacing, "You're still just a child in the eyes of most people, completely regardless of the young woman I've come to know. It could be really bad for both of us if somebody got the wrong idea."

"What should it matter how old I am?" she chastised him, "I know there's a bit of a gap between us but I didn't think it mattered."

"It doesn't matter," Masato tried to soothe her, "You know … just forget about it. It was a dumb thing for me to say in the first place."

"If your reputation is going to be in danger for taking a silly school girl out to dinner then I'm not going to force you," she said condescendingly.

"I'm sorry, Mako-chan," he apologized to the best of his ability, "If it's a night on the town you want then that's what you'll get."

Her prickly demeanor immediately disappeared to be replaced with the eager exuberance Masato recognized. He smiled at her as he looked around to make sure the office was empty and then bent down to plant a kiss on her forehead, though he didn't have to bend far as Makoto stood almost to his chin. Arm in arm the duo left the office via the elevator and then made their way through the lobby to the still bustling street beyond. Masato hailed his driver who immediately jumped out and opened the door for the pair.

"You look lovely, by the way," Masato suddenly announced.

"And you're as dashing as ever," she replied, "You'd better watch it or you're going to have a dozen other school girls trying to tarnish your image."

"All right, all right!" he defended, "I said I was sorry."

"I'm just playing with you," Makoto replied and then asked expectantly, "So where should we go?"

"I'm dying for Italian," Masato replied and called up to his driver, "Castiglione's!"

Within moments the limousine roared into traffic. The sudden acceleration caused a few magazines to fall off the table and Makoto reached for the _European Journal of Mineralogy_. The front page identified the cover article about jade. The intricately cut stones on the cover picture were labeled jadeite and nephrite.

"Are you still at this?" Makoto asked, pointing to the picture of the nephrite stone.

"A man is entitled to his hobbies," Masato replied.

Makoto started to talk but Masato's attention was called away out the window. They drove past a familiar office building that he couldn't readily identify. There was a crowd of people gathered around elbowing each other to get closer to what looked like a police investigation. Officers tried to usher people back behind the yellow caution tape but the crowd was getting larger and larger. Flashes of coroner's cameras went off like fireworks as through the legs of the crowd Masato caught sight of a body splayed out on the concrete.

His temples constricted with pressure and he saw the face of the man clearly in his mind's eye. An ungodly look of horror was plastered on the face of the businessman who Masato recognized as one of his colleagues from a rival corporation. He had been murdered in the same sterile fashion as the victims of the "shadow killer" he'd read so much about in the papers. Still, he could see the face. How could he see the man's face so clearly? How did he always know?

"Masato-senpai?" Makoto interrupted him and tugged on his arm.

"Hmm?"

"Are you all right?" she asked worriedly, "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Oh, nothing, just daydreaming," he replied, "Hey, did you know that the Maori of New Zealand knew about nephrite jade around the same time the Chinese did?"

"What?" Makoto asked, completely taken off guard.

"The Maori used it for weaponry and ornamentation, though," Masato continued as though he were lecturing a college course, "They even used it for common tools in place of metal."

"Masato, are you feeling okay?" she asked with a sideways glance.

"Yeah, why?"

"I was talking about the test I took in my Art History class," she replied factually.

"Oh, right …" he stalled and scratched his head sheepishly.

"Are you sure you're all right?" she asked again, "If you're tired or--"

"No, no, I'm fine," he assured her, "I'm sorry. I guess I've been spending too much time studying about my little rocks."

"We're here, sir," his driver suddenly announced from the front seat.

"Ah, excellent!" Masato exclaimed gleefully and rubbed his hands together, "Castiglione keeps a table open for me facing the ocean. His lasagna is criminal."

"I'll assume that means it's good," Makoto said nervously.

They exited the vehicle and walked towards the gilded doors which were politely opened by two attendants. Makoto was overwhelmed immediately by the sheer opulence of the restaurant. Men and women sat inside wearing exceptionally expensive suits and gowns. A grand piano sat on a pedestal near the center where its player was expertly fluttering through a classical piece she didn't recognize. The maitre'd greeted them with a plastic smile.

"Sanjouin Masato!" he welcomed his patron, "I must say this is an unexpected delight," the maitre'd shot Makoto a devious grin, "We haven't seen you here since the New Years Eve fiasco."

"We don't need to bring that up," Masato interrupted him, "Is my table open?"

"Always." the man said snidely, "If you'll follow me."

Masato nodded and twisted his face into a humorous scowl when the maitre'd turned his back. Makoto had to cough to hide her laughter. They wove through the tables of official-looking patrons who regarded the duo with curiosity and suspicion. True to his word, they were led to a private table near a large window overlooking the Tokyo harbor. The millionaire began to peruse his menu when Makoto asked the inevitable question.

"What happened on New Years Eve?"

Masato coughed and cleared his throat, cocking his head at odd angles to see if there were any eavesdropping ears nearby.

"You're never going to repeat this again," Masato ordered and nodded his head towards the copper-haired piano player, "You see the piano player over there?"

"Yeah, what about him?" Makoto asked.

"He's an eccentric," Masato explained, "He's a bit on the effeminate side, sort of a cross-dresser; calls himself Zoisite."

"Really?" Makoto asked, amused.

"The short version goes that I was out with some of my business friends on New Years Eve and we all got a little tipsy," Makoto continued and started to turn red, "But now, it wasn't my fault. We all thought he was a girl."

"You were hitting on him, weren't you?" Makoto asked disapprovingly.

"This was long before I met you," he defended, "I went up to the piano and started playing a little air guitar. I was practically sitting on the bench with him before the night was over."

"When did you figure out he was a he?" she asked.

"When he invited me back to his room."

"EWWWWW!" she screamed, drawing the attention and ire of half the restaurant.

Masato almost had to clamp a hand over her mouth lest they both get thrown out. She fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat while assembling a mental picture. If her outburst had disturbed Zoisite he didn't show it and simply kept on playing without batting an eyelash. She managed to compose herself when their waiter appeared bearing the drinks they'd ordered while being seated.

"The name Zoisite sounds familiar for some reason," she said offhandedly.

"It's a mineral like nephrite," Masato explained.

"Maybe that explains your new obsession with rocks," she remarked.

"Hardly," he replied, "Nephrite jade was just something I wanted to learn more about," he considered the fallacy of his words and continued, "I'll be you didn't know that the word 'jade' isn't even remotely Asian in origin."

"Here we go again …" Makoto sighed and set her chin down on the table.

"This is really interesting stuff!" Masato stressed, "The word 'jade' came from the Spanish word 'ijada' which means the flanks of your body, like where your kidneys are located. They thought nephrite could cure renal colic."

"This is a fascinating dinner topic," Makoto deadpanned.

"Fine then," he pouted and leaned back in his chair, "What do _you_ want to talk about?"

"I … uh …" she stopped and stammered trying to find a crushing line, "You can be a real jerk sometimes!'

"I specialize in keeping people on their toes," he said slyly and took a sip of his wine, "Care for a swig?"

"No thanks," she politely declined.

"Hey, here's something we haven't talked about," he began with unexpected seriousness, "The day you stopped by my office with your curry I did something I'd been meaning to do for quite a while."

"What?"

"I called my father," Masato said as though he were in a confessional.

"Really?" she perked up immediately, "That's great!"

"We were supposed to get together some time last month but I never called him back to schedule anything," he continued.

"Why not?"

"I don't know …" he sighed, "Part of me is still resentful, I guess. After you left that day I was inspired and excited, so I just picked up the phone, you know?"

"Inspired?" she asked slowly.

"I don't tell you often enough what kind of an effect you have on me," Masato said, switching the pitch of his voice to a more intimate timbre, "When you came to my office that day I felt something I've never felt before. I think I was genuinely happy for the first in my life."

"Masato…" she cooed dreamily.

"Shush, we'll get to the mushy stuff later," he interrupted with a grin, "Would you feel weird at all if I asked you to come with me?"

"Where?" she asked, still hung up on his sudden romantic flair.

"To visit my dad," he replied.

"Oh!" she shouted, somewhat surprised, "No. No! I'd be delighted! I'd be honored!"

"Don't go overboard on me," he chuckled and softened his voice again, "I need you there with me. I need you in my corner."

"You can have me in any corner you want," she replied in a seductive whisper, sending an immediate chill down Masato's spine.

"Mako-chan?" he asked shakily.

"What? You're the only one who gets to talk like a movie script?" she laughed and settled down in her chair again, "You're something else, Masato-senpai."

"You're going to be the death of me," he concluded, placing a hand over his heart to try and steady his erratic breathing.

"Well let's hope this isn't your last meal," she answered noticing their waiter appearing in the room with a tray destined for their table.

The lasagna Masato had ordered for dinner was, as he put it, criminally good. The proprietor of the restaurant Mr. Castiglione himself came out at one point to slap Masato unceremoniously hard on the back and compliment Makoto on her "astounding beauty" as he put it. The romantic dinner was just as Makoto had planned it even though Masato seemed somewhat on edge for most of the evening. As they were preparing to leave Masato reached into his coat and pulled out a small black velvet box and held it out over the table.

"I have something for you," he said as Makoto's eyes widened.

He opened the top of the box and though her brain my have superimposed a glittering diamond ring she was surprised all the same to see a pair of earrings waiting for her. They were pink studs with traces of green in the shape of a cluster of rose petals. She fell in love with them immediately.

"You like?" he asked eagerly.

"I love them!" she squealed and immediately set about replacing the worn golden studs she was wearing, "Might I inquire as to the occasion?"

"I saw them yesterday in my travels and thought you'd like them," he replied, "I bet you can't guess what they're made of."

"Let me guess," she smirked and latched on her new accessories, "They're made of an ornamental variety of jade that was named after a human being's lower extremities because the Spanish thought it cured renal colic."

"Nephrite jade, very good," he said casually.

Zoisite's piano suddenly grew in volume and intensity as the musician launched into a highly ornamental waltz. Makoto's eyes shifted to the enigmatic musician who only winked his emerald eyes in her direction and continued playing. Masato stood from his seat and buttoned his coat, extending his hand to Makoto.

"May I have this dance?" he asked suavely.

"Uh …" she stuttered and felt her face begin to flush, "I'm not much of a dancer."

"Neither am I," Masato replied, "So let's both go out there and make asses of ourselves." He gestured over his shoulder at the other restaurant patrons, "Maybe we can get all these stuck-up suits to loosen up a little."

"Fine." she sighed in mock defeat and accepted his hand.

The millionaire nearly tore her arm out of its socket as he bounded across the room to the dance floor where Zoisite regarded him with an accusatory glare. Masato and Makoto bowed to each other before launching into a furiously paced waltz. Regardless of what Masato had said he was a fine dancer and Makoto for her part followed closely. Her bright green dress billowed around her like a storm of blowing leaves and the tiny points of candlelight illuminating the restaurant sparkled off her new earrings like stars.

Masato found himself lost in her eyes and so wasn't particularly phased when he spun around and ran straight into a vacant table. Makoto burst into laughter which infected the rest of the occupants of the restaurant and when the song finished every last man and woman gave them a rousing ovation and called for another song that more couples could dance to.

It was more than either of them could have asked for.

* * *

Miles outside the city Sanjouin Takeshi was settling down after a day's labor to a pitcher of sake and a long night's rest. The welding business had been slow throughout the winter but now with the spring thaw damaging everything it could touch he was finding himself pleasantly busy. Only a few feet from his favorite chair and there was a knock on the door.

"God damn it." he cursed to himself and shuffled to the front door.

He swung it open ready to berate whoever had interrupted his nightcap when a distant, yet familiar face greeted him with a warm smile. Takeshi's voice caught in his throat and he had to consciously force himself to swallow.

"Masato?" he asked dumbfounded.

The man in front of him nodded and smiled. His auburn hair erupted from the top of his head like the stately branches of a willow tree and his dark brown eyes burned into the old man's like flaring embers. He approached and extended his arms, wrapping Takeshi in a bear hug as he slowly rocked back and forth.

"What?" Takeshi asked, tears threatening to obscure his vision, "What are you doing here?"

"Is it so much to ask for a son to visit his father?" Masato asked as he gripped Takeshi's shoulders and pulled away, "One last time?"

"What are you talking about?" Takeshi asked looking deep into his son's eyes, "What's gotten into you, boy?"

"Nothing!" he exclaimed and laughed, slapping his father hard on the shoulder.

"There's something different about you," Takeshi observed and his eyes took in the strange gray suit Masato was wearing: ash-colored, trimmed in green with epaulettes on his shoulders and a single golden stud holding his jacket closed.

Takeshi tried to take a step back but Masato's grip was strong on his shoulders, "Let go of me!"

"That was always the problem, father," Masato growled as his eyes began to glow with a festering red light, "You never wanted to be close to me."

"You are _not_ my son!" Takeshi declared and thrashed in the man's iron grip.

"Yes I am," the creature laughed with a rasping cackle, "I'm the son you wanted Sanjouin Masato to be. Think of me as the shadow of the broken little boy who thought he killed his own mother."

"The shadow?" Takeshi gasped as he felt his body grow weak and limp, "No! You're that shadow killer from the newspapers!"

"I'm a part of Masato that was locked up and buried for far too long!" the shadow killer declared, "It's funny to think that you technically are my father. Perhaps I'll weep when you're gone."

Takeshi tried to scream but he had no voice. Wisps of cloud-like energy seeped from his body into the waiting palm of this devil who wore his son's face. His chest constricted and the air was stolen from his lungs. Within moments all he knew was darkness though he was vaguely aware of his body hitting the floor after a quick fall. It seemed the shadow killer had opted not to finish him off.

"Masato is coming to visit you," a voice spoke in his fading consciousness, "Perhaps you'll live long enough to apologize for a lifetime of inadequate parenting … father."

The man practically spat the word and as he turned to leave the house Takeshi somehow found to strength to open his mouth and gasp.

"Nephrite!" he groaned and opened one eye to see the started man standing in the doorway peering over his shoulder, "My son _will_ stop you!"

Nephrite smiled a horrible, malevolent smile that filled Takeshi with dread as he finally began to drift away and the murderer said, "I dearly hope he does."


	4. Chapter 4, Mean Streak

**Chapter Four – Mean Streak**

If a man's home is his castle, then his car is his chariot.

Masato could see his regal reflection in the shining clear coat of his candy apple red Ferrari. He ran the buffing cloth over the same spot for the hundredth time and bent down to breathe on the sleek steel, wiping it again and admiring the mirror like sparkle with which the vehicle shone. Oh, it was an indulgence to be sure, but then again what good is a fortune if you don't spend it? For as grounded as he was Masato felt no compunction in his occasional purchases of vanity.

Masato was not a "car man" as some of his other wealthy friends were. He could appreciate the quality craftsmanship of a fine vehicle and get a giddy burst of testosterone at the sound of a powerful engine, but he really didn't know all that much about automobiles other than the fact that this blindingly bright Ferrari looked really good in the showroom. True to his inquisitive nature, however, he set about learning all he could about the manufacturer and the renowned elegance of their products. A car like this was not a thing to be taken for granted. There was a reason it had a six-digit sales tag. This car was a status symbol; a gilded feather in the crest of Sanjouin Masato's crown; the mighty steed that stampeded at the head of his corporate army.

He immediately grimaced at the melodramatic thought and opened the garage door to get a breath of fresh air. The noxious vapors from the car polish always got him thinking sideways.

The sun was beating down on a particularly gorgeous day outside his stately mansion atop one of the few wooded hills in suburban Tokyo. The Victorian house would have looked completely out of place had it not been entirely obscured from sight by a massive cocoon of trees that almost perfectly hid it on the side of the mountain. He wiped his hands on his jeans and looked around trying to remember where he had thrown his t-shirt while at the same time pondering his strange habit of always working shirtless when his car was involved.

He walked quickly up and down a short section of his driveway viewing the lawn that stretched to the tree line. It was going to be time to cut it again soon and though he'd usually take the time to do it himself he was seriously considering calling his landscapers. There was just too much work to be done these days and unfortunately the grass fell towards the bottom of the list. After a few moments of inspecting a new row of hedges he'd planted last year Masato made his way back into the garage and closed the door, satisfied with the condition of his car, and entered his home.

The mansion was cavernous on the interior with vaulted ceilings and high walls adorned with hanging rugs and large pictures. It looked more like an art gallery than a residence. He made his way to the kitchen while whistling the tune to "Over the Hills and Far Away" by Led Zeppelin. Out of the array of cabinets and granite counter tops he swung open the refrigerator and removed a pitcher of lemonade, his perennial favorite, and after pouring a glass made his way into the den where he collapsed on the huge leather couch and clicked on the LCD television with the remote. Sixty four inches of High Definition displayed the local news:

_"Another tragic discovery was made this morning,"_ the female reporter spoke, _"Police found the body of an unidentified woman near the loading docks of the Gemini Corporation's warehouses. Authorities report that the woman was found in the same condition as a dozen other victims of the so-called "Shadow Killer" that has been terrorizing the city for the past several weeks."_

Masato's fist tightened around the remote control as a bead of sweat trickled down his forehead into his right eye. She was a single mother, a simple woman whose life should have been much better than it was. She was working as a doctor's assistant and going to night classes to obtain her degree in nursing. The child support payments were extremely taxing, her husband was a loner. When she died she could only keep screaming, then gasping, and finally whispering the names of her two children.

The remote control flew across the room with such force that the LCD screen cracked and sent ripples throughout the picture. Masato slid down the couch to his knees and leaned on the glass coffee table, cradling his pounding head in his hands. How could he know such things? Why did he always know? Why could he see the victims of this murderer as if he were standing right there when they died? His throat was dry, his eyes burning as his temples thundered like drums. He stood up quickly and ran to the sliding doors, throwing them open and stumbling on to the deck to let the cool breeze wash over him. It took nearly five minutes before he finally steadied his breathing. He remembered when the first bouts of this condition occurred. He'd sometimes feel the need to vomit or he would pass out, waking up hours later in a paranoid daze.

His hand moved on its own to his chest and came to rest on the sun cross pendant that he wore. The nephrite carving was cool to his touch and seemed to bring him much needed focus but his attention was immediately called when the phone inside began ringing. He walked back in, past the television which he was now regretting having destroyed as an unpleasant call to tech support was in his future, and picked up the receiver.

"What?" he barked into the phone, still perturbed from his episode.

"Sir," droned voice of his driver who was unmistakably calling from a cell phone, "I've been sitting at the gate for twenty minutes."

"Oh shit!" Masato cursed and ran to the button that unlocked the iron gates surrounding his home, "Sorry about that."

The click of the cell phone ending the call was all he received. His driver was legendary for antisocial nature. Masato watched the limousine roll into the circular driveway in front of his home as he quickly jumped around the mansion as he changed his jeans into a pair of khaki slacks and dug out a clean dress shirt. The only one he could find was canary yellow and as he ran out the door he grabbed a blue blazer from off the hook. It was a louder look than he was used to but he was in a hurry. He walked up to the car and opened the door to be met by the unpleasant face of his chauffer.

"Are we going to pick up Miss Kino from her school today, sir?" the driver asked snottily after they had both entered the limo.

"Yes," Masato replied as the car started rolling away from the mansion.

As his house receded in the car's mirrors a thought suddenly assaulted him and he almost jumped out of the seat.

"Wait!" he shouted, startling the driver who slammed on the brakes, "Turn around!"

"We're going to be late if--" the irate driver began but was cut off.

"Never mind, go!" Masato ordered as he swung open the door and jumped out.

"What are you doing?" his driver demanded as Masato sprinted back towards the mansion on the hill.

"Take the rest of the day off!" his benefactor shouted back, "I'll make it up to you at, uh … Christmas! I'll get you a fruit basket or something!"

The chauffer shook his head realizing Masato had entered the state he liked to refer to as "love stupid." It had been happening infrequently ever since Masato and Makoto met but sometimes the millionaire just lost all sense of himself and started acting irrationally, especially if his plans involved impressing his girlfriend. A few moments later a roar from the garage brought him back from his silent ponderings and a red blur that may have been a Ferrari screamed past him headed towards the road.

At the wheel, Masato tried to bury the lingering dread of his latest shadow killer episode with the surge of adrenaline that accompanied the ludicrous speed he was driving at. After all, what was the point of a fast car if you didn't push it into the triple digits every once in a while? There was no point in cutting corners today, it was the big one. Makoto had agreed to accompany Masato on a visit to his father's house and one thing was certain: they would arrive in style. The clock was counting up to the hour faster than the miles were flying by so Masato did what any man in a hurry would do and gunned the Ferrari to the red line.

The suburban trees turned to city concrete, glass, and metal in moments. Masato's hand bounced freely in the rushing wind outside the car window as he unsuccessfully tried to scoop handfuls of air that were blowing past at breakneck speeds. Within mere minutes Makoto's school rolled into view and Masato leapt from the car like a child racing for a toy store. He stopped on the wide concrete steps and glanced up at the fence surrounding the athletic fields that stretched out on either side of the front of the building.

He saw there was a crowd facing him above behind the fence but they were more interested in a blonde high school aged boy who had been backed into the corner where the chain link met. Masato's instinct was to leap over the fence and break up whatever conflict was brewing as he heard the crowd chanting slander against this pinned person but he didn't get the chance to react as a vicious fist met the boy's cheek and put him on the ground in one punch. The crowd cheered their approval and Masato's jaw went slack.

Makoto stood above him with her fist clenched hard as a diamond. She struck again, planting her knee in the doubled-over boy she was relentlessly beating on. The onlookers roared again as taller heads began to move through the crowd; security guards trying to break up the fight. Masato grinded his molars together watching the vulgar display of abuse as his apparently half-Amazon princess hoisted the struggling teenager up by the collar just to nonchalantly toss him to the side where his uniform tangled on the sharp chain link and tore across his shoulder drawing a thin trail of blood.

Her eyes which were normally so full of adoration and affection had dulled to black coals of rage. This girl had a feral side about her that Masato wouldn't have ever known was there unless he somehow found himself unlucky enough to be on the receiving end of it. His sweet, lonely Makoto … what kind of devil could have possessed her? She looked ready to pounce when two hands clasped her shoulders on either side and pulled her back with a generous amount of resistance.

The boy she had been assaulting stumbled to his feet and after screaming a few choice words at the crowd that were deriving entertainment from his emasculation, tore off in the opposite direction while security chased him down. Within moments the crowd of spectators dispersed leaving a rather confused, empathetic, and simultaneously irate Sanjouin Masato standing in the middle of an empty flight of stairs. He didn't quite know what to do with himself, glancing back and forth between his car and the doors to the school wherein Makoto was likely being read the riot act and being threatened with police intervention.

How could she do this to him? How could she just lead him on like this for so long? Masato's blood began to boil. His thoughts drifted back, years back. He saw a younger version of himself behind that fence in place of Makoto, savagely beating on that helpless student. He had to shake himself to disperse the image. Things fell out of focus and the faces all returned to him: the faces of the victims; the victims of that bastard "Shadow Killer." Masato spun on his heels to avoid being forced to his knees and charged for the Ferrari, almost diving through the window where he started the car and cranked the air condition to the max to try to dull the inferno that was burning across his whole body. The whole situation was dredging up memories and feelings he would have preferred stayed buried under layers of faux indifference.

He'd worked hard to leave that all behind …

Minutes ticked off the clock as Masato sat writhing in his seat trying to make some kind of sense of the turmoil raging in his mind. He tried to force himself to start the car and drive away but something stronger, something intangible bade him to remain. The hour rolled around and suddenly the stairs of the school were alive with students running to their freedom. Masato's throat tightened when he saw Makoto appear, escorted by two security guards who left her at the top of the stairway with twin sneers plastered on their authoritarian faces. She nonchalantly strolled down the concrete stairway as if she didn't have a care and only straightened her posture when her eyes landed on the Ferrari. Masato jumped out of his seat immediately and crossed in front of the car to greet her.

"Masato-senpai!" she gasped, "Why didn't you ever tell me you had a car like this?"

"Umm … surprise?" he guessed off the top of his head trying desperately not to interrogate her about the fight he'd witnessed, "Shall we?"

"I … I don't know," she stalled, "I'm not feeling well, maybe you should just go ahead without me."

"You know I can't do this alone!" he pleaded, "Come on, we'll talk on the way."

She only nodded her head in reply and got in the sleek vehicle. Her eyes never left Masato as he closed her door and slid across the hood to his driver's seat; greatly entertaining a group of high school students that had gathered around the expensive car. With a roar the engine parted the crowd and they were soon on their way. Masato kept his cool admirably but the question rang in his head like cathedral bells. He glanced over at Makoto who was staring silently out the car window while rubbing her hands together. He noticed immediately that her knuckles were bruised.

"What did you do to your hand?" he asked insistently.

"Oh, nothing," Makoto replied obviously unprepared for the question, "I, uh, took a header today playing volleyball. Scratched my hand …"

"Oh." He replied tersely.

Masato tried to keep the concern and anger from his face but his mouth was involuntarily twisting downward. He was upset Makoto had just lied to him but forgave her under the circumstances. He wasn't going to be able to just set something like this aside. He couldn't bottle it up. He had to know! He had to be sure! He had to help her if he could, to make sure she wouldn't turn out like—

He cut thoughts short and abruptly slammed the brakes of the Ferrari, jerking the car onto the shoulder startling both himself and Makoto whose hands shot to the dashboard in reaction. It couldn't wait any longer.

"Mako-chan," he started and tried to avoid eye contact, "Why didn't you tell me what was going on at your school?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked back, her voice shaking slightly.

"I saw you today," Masato said disappointedly, "I saw what you did to that blonde boy out on the field."

Makoto grit her teeth and snapped her head away, trying to keep her blood at room temperature. Masato had no right to be there that early so what was he trying to prove? She didn't have to answer to him. She refused. There's no way he'd even begin to understand what she was doing … would he?

"Did he …" Masato began to ask but lost his nerve momentarily, "Did he do something to you?"

"No!" she shouted in defense, "No, Masato. You wouldn't understand."

"Why don't you try me?" he more or less ordered.

Makoto took a deep breath and said:"The kid was scum, okay? His family is rich, he's a momma's boy, and everyone is afraid to stand up to him because they think he'll sue them into poverty."

"So he's a rich punk?" Masato generalized, "Is that why you had to nearly knock his head off his shoulders?"

"Don't treat me like I'm a criminal, Masato!" she demanded, "The kid is a menace! He just does whatever he pleases. He says whatever he wants regardless of how it makes anyone else feel."

She continued, "Today he started running his mouth to a sensei who gave him a failing grade on a legitimately failed assignment. He was vicious with her, calling her ungodly names, threatening to buy out her tenure and ruin her career. The things he said … and on top of that not an hour later he was shamelessly hitting on a girl in the cafeteria and just wouldn't take no for an answer. It was gonna get bad, I could tell. I had to help the poor girl. I had to stop him because no one else would!"

"You think you're a vigilante?" Masato gasped, "You think it's your right to just knock some sense into the kids you think deserve it?"

"No, you don't--" Makoto tried to speak but Masato cut her off.

"I saw you beat the hell out of that kid!" Masato thundered, angered beyond anything Makoto had ever seen him capable of, "Is that how you deal with all your problems? Beat them senseless?"

"Masato, why do you care so much about this?" she shouted back, "The school security isn't going to stop these kids! The administration might reprimand them but you can't change someone like that with a slap on the wrists!"

"But you can with a knee to their ribs, is that it?" Masato slammed her again, "I couldn't believe what I saw back at that school. It horrified me!"

"_WHY?_" she screamed at him.

There was silence for a moment as cars rushed past them on the busy highway. Makoto's eyes were already tearing and Masato had to look away lest the sight send him into a fit of sobbing himself.

"Do you have any idea what it's like for those kids who feel alone and out of place?" Makoto asked, "Those kids that always get picked on by the more popular boys and girls; do you know what it's like not to be able to stand up for yourself?"

She continued, "When my parents died I thought my friends would swing in behind me and help me through it, but you know what they did?"

Masato looked up and saw the tears in Makoto's eyes vaporize in an inferno of repressed anger. She tried to relax in her seat but she could have been likened to a volcano on the verge of eruption.

"They turned around and made fun of me," she answered her question and diverted her attention out the window to mask the hurt on her face, "Can you imagine the effect that had on a six year old girl? They pointed and laughed at me because my family died. Can you imagine …?"

Masato remained silent as his girlfriend wiped her tears with the sleeve of her shirt and stated, "When I was old enough to know why children sometimes act the way they do I made a decision. I swore that I'd never let anyone have to feel the pain and longing that I had to endure. I was going to stop those bastards that preyed on the weak and make sure their mouths stayed shut," her eyes narrowed in particular disgust, "And kept their hands to themselves."

There was a long silence before Masato finally pulled the Ferrari back on to the road and resumed the drive towards his father's house.

"I do know how those helpless kids feel," Masato assured her, "And I'm sorry if I offended or upset you. It's just … violence … I don't want you to end up the way I did."

"Oh yeah, you've got it real rough," Makoto dismissed him.

"You think a car like this or the money I've made means a damn to me?" he asked her, "You're the only thing that I've truly cared about since I walked out of my father's house to start a new life. You're the only thing I love! I don't want to see you get hurt because of some vendetta you've devised against bullies!"

"Love?" she asked dismissively, "You love me?"

"Yes," Masato answered so seriously and so insistently that Makoto suddenly felt cold under those intense dark eyes, "Do you remember back a few months ago when I told you that everyone has a mean streak?"

"Yes," she replied slowly.

"Do you want to know reason I never finished college?" Masato asked haltingly, "Do you want to know why I'm a twenty six year old millionaire who up until recently had lived alone in a huge house with no close ties to family or friends?"

Her silence was an affirmative.

"When I was in school I was one of those kids you hate," Masato explained, "I picked on everyone smaller than me, I openly swore at my peers, and I held no respect for anyone or anything. My mother had died when I was young and my father had practically disowned me so I was left to fend for myself with no guidance. I took out my craving for attention in the worst way possible and forced people to notice me, often with dire results."

He continued, "It wasn't until I got to college that everything changed. When you walk up the stairs of that university you realize that everything you were up until that point means nothing. I tried to be the class clown, the big man on campus but it came crashing back down on me. The booze, the parties … I crashed hard and I crashed long. When it finally hit me I did the same thing you did: I swore I'd never become that person I was ever again and I started hunting for people like that to punish."

"I, just like you, thought of myself as an enforcer for the weak. I got in plenty of bar fights and parking lot brawls throughout my first year but it all ended one day when one particularly dangerous classmate of mine got stumbling drunk after he broke up with his girlfriend. He went to a party where he knew the girl was and pulled a switchblade. If I hadn't been there, well, who knows, but something came over me. Before I even knew what had happened it was over. It was like I was standing right there but someone else was guiding my hand."

"What?" Makoto asked breathlessly.

Masato's eyes twitched and he struggled to keep his focus on the road ahead as he replied, "I pulled the knife out of his hand and probably snapped his jaw when I punched him. We were standing on the second floor of the house and he just fell backwards, down a flight of stairs. He broke his neck."

Makoto couldn't find a reply for him so she just stared. Masato's senses began to overload again as the faces and screams of the Shadow Killer's victims flooded in. A growl from his throat accompanied his haggard breathing and he rolled down the windows to try and cool down.

A few minutes later he continued, "After that I just shut myself off. They declared I was acting in self defense but I couldn't handle being around those people anymore. I dropped out of school and started working odd jobs before getting a permanent position at a software company. Within a few years I moved from a two-room apartment to a loft in the city and then came Gemini."

"Again, I don't see how this ended poorly for you," Makoto softly observed, "No offense."

"I may have been successful but that doesn't mean I was happy," Masato elaborated, "I knew that I had to stay detached from everyone and everything I loved. If I lost control again I wouldn't have been able to live with myself. I just … turned off."

"And now you're afraid that the same thing is going to happen to me?" Makoto assumed to which Masato nodded in reply.

"If there's one thing our sad stories have in common it's that we were both alone," Makoto told him and reached out to lay her hand on his, which was perched on the clutch, "But not anymore."

"Everyone has a mean streak, Makoto," he said, "I've said that before."

"True, but this time we both have someone to get us through it," she said warmly, "And obviously you're not too worried about it if we're going to visit your father. You said yourself you wanted to stay away from everyone you cared about."

"Well like you said, I have someone to get me through it," Masato smiled and pointed to a house approaching in the distance, "This is our stop."

"I suppose now is as good a time as any," Makoto said abruptly and turned to look her senpai in the eye, "I love you too."

"Uh …" Masato's thoughts ground to a halt when he remembered his emotional outpouring a few moments earlier, "Delayed reaction?"

"Shut up, don't make fun of me!" Makoto ordered as the car pulled into the driveway of an inconspicuous looking white home in suburban Tokyo.

"This house still needs a paint job," Masato observed as he and Makoto got out of the Ferrari and headed for the front door.

"Takeshi hates long winded introductions," Masato instructed his companion as though training her for a job in his company, "And he has a history of back problems so don't bow too deeply or he'll get offended."

"Masato, relax!" she chuckled, "This isn't a business meeting it's your dad!"

"You'd be surprised how similar those two meetings can be," he deadpanned and knocked on the door.

Several moments passed before he knocked again, met with another round of silence. A third knock got him worked up and he tried to peer around the side of the house to the garage.

"Is he home?" Masato wondered aloud, "It would be so like him to forget about something like this."

"Knock again, maybe he's upstairs." Makoto suggested.

Masato rapped harder on the door and added, "Takeshi!"

Makoto walked to the front windows and tried to look through but the white curtains obscured too much of the interior and she couldn't tell very well what was inside. A quick check inside the garage noted that Sanjouin Takeshi's car was present.

"Is he going deaf?" Masato laughed and rapped the door again, "Takeshi!"

Makoto began to ask, "Do you think--"

She was cut off by the sound of a loud crash beyond the door, inside the house. They both stiffened immediately and Masato pounded the door with all his might.

"Takeshi!" he shouted futilely, "Dad!"

"Masato-senpai!" Makoto suddenly gasped and her hand instinctively reached to the new earrings he'd bought for her, "I think something's wrong."

Masato needed no further explanation as he grabbed the doorknob and turned, feeling the lock hold him in place. He took a deep breath and launched his shoulder into the door. The wooden frame exploded in a shower of splinters and they both rushed into the house. To their ultimate horror they found Masato's father splayed out on the ground clutching a tuft of carpeting in his hand that had knocked over a glass table and vase, now lying shattered next to him.

"Dad!" Masato cried and rushed to the elder man's side, turning him on his back to look into his cloudy, withering eyes.

"I'll call an ambulance!" Makoto said immediately and ran into the adjacent kitchen where she spied a phone.

Meanwhile, Masato clutched his father's hand and ran his palm across the man's forehead. Takeshi coughed and sputtered and his eyes focused on Masato's. His arm shot up and clutched Masato's wrist in a cold, clammy, but surprisingly powerful grip.

"Masato!" the older man choked, "Get out!"

"Calm down, dad!" he ordered, trying to stay calm, "We're getting help. The ambulance will be here in a couple of--"

His father's grip tightened painfully as he croaked, "He's here!"

"Who?" Masato demanded as his father's grip weakened feebly, "Damn it, dad! Who did this to you?"

"Son …" Takeshi spoke softly as his vision wandered, "I'm glad you came."

"Takeshi, don't!" Masato snapped angrily.

"I'm sorry," his father said quietly.

The old man's eyes closed and his body fell limp in Masato's grasp. The millionaire felt numb all over and he very slowly laid his father's hand on his chest as he stood up, unsure as to his feelings. All Masato knew was that he felt cold. He knew this feeling all too well. He was cold and alone. He looked down at his father's drawn, lifeless face and the cold numbness was replaced by boiling rage. He saw it all again from his childhood to this very moment. All the faces of all the people Sanjouin Masato had hurt, or in the case of that one fateful night, killed. And there they were: all the victims of the dreaded Shadow Killer. His father's face was among them.

"Masato-senpai!" Makoto's voice snapped him from his trance and he turned around.

She stood before him with a look of confusion and terror on her face. A hand held her around the back of the neck and led her out of the kitchen to stand in front of Masato and the fallen body of his father. Masato's skin began to crawl at the sight of Makoto's assailant: he was tall, with slate black eyes and chestnut hair like a medieval warrior. His uniform was military gray, lined in green with epaulettes on the shoulders. It was like looking into a mirror and seeing a false version of one's self staring back. The man bared his teeth in a malevolent grin and pulled Makoto closer to him.

"You!" Masato gasped and pointed a finger at the intruder, "Who are you?"

"Don't you recognize me?" he asked in Masato's own voice, "You should. I recognize you. I know you better than your own father knew you."

"You killed him, didn't you?" Masato demanded and his posture changed to that of a traditional martial arts stance.

"No, Masato-kun," his doppelganger replied, "_We _killed him."

"That's a lie!" Masato bellowed as his eyes met with Makoto's who was still hanging helpless in her assailant's grasp.

"How can you say you didn't pull the trigger when your prints are on the gun?" the intruder replied with a sadistic chuckle, "We're one in the same, Masato. I can see through your eyes just like you can see through mine."

"What are you talking about?" Masato demanded.

"Why do you think you can see all those faces?" he asked, "Why do you always feel like you were there when the Shadow Killer struck?" the intruder shook his head disapprovingly, "Shadow Killer … they could've come up with a better name …."

"_NO!_" Masato screamed, "It's not possible!"

"Stop trying to fool yourself and accept it! You know it to be true! It seems your girlfriend isn't the only one living a lie, Masato!" the intruder blasted him and released Makoto's neck, grabbing her shoulder instead and throwing her with crushing force into the wall.

Makoto gasped in pain and sank to her knees after leaving a sizeable dent in the wall. Masato moved in shock towards her when a curious static energy built around him and shocked him to the ground like a blast of wind. He looked up at the man in front of him and saw his hand sparkling with energy like a lightning rod. All at once he understood.

"Nephrite!" he gasped.

"It's time to make that choice you've been avoiding these last few years," Nephrite accosted Masato as he motioned with his hand and Makoto's body was set alight by arcing blue currents of energy.

"You son of a bitch!" Masato screamed and charged Nephrite who simply stepped out of the way and brought his hand up to meet Masato at the neck.

He dragged Masato into a choke hold and forced him to look down at Makoto who had been rendered unconscious by the energy attack. Nephrite chuckled maniacally and spun Masato around to face him.

"What will you do now, Masato?" Nephrite challenged him with devious enthusiasm, "Will you give up and let me do whatever I please to you and your precious little school girl, or will you strike me down and become that thing you despise once again?"

"I'll stop you and let someone else deal with your sorry ass!" Masato gasped as he struggled for breaths.

"No jail can hold me, you fool!" Nephrite barked and threw Masato to the ground, "This pathetic world lacks the collective brainpower to even begin to understand what you and I are capable of!"

"If you really are a part of me as you claim," Masato began, "Then you know I don't respond well to threats."

"True, because in the past you had nothing to threaten!" Nephrite cheered almost contradictorily as pointed his palm at Makoto again.

"My time is up, Masato!" Nephrite announced as his hand began to glow with deadly sparks of electricity again, "It's time to make a choice. You have the power to stop me. All you have to do is use it." Nephrite's grin perked into outright demonism, "Or watch your girlfriend die."

Masato was suddenly back in college watching that drunken idiot of a young man tumble backwards down a flight of stairs. The faces of Nephrite's victims where there as well. If he was responsible, truly responsible, then there was only one course of action open to him to set things right. He only hoped Makoto would understand, forgive him, and go on with her life.

Where Sanjouin Masato had decided to go there would be no return.


	5. Chapter 5, The Things We Do For Love

**Chapter Five – The Things We Do For Love**

Nephrite half expected his counterpart to lay down his arms and admit defeat. While that would have served his purposes well enough he was surprised when the young millionaire charged at him and landed a vicious roundhouse punch on Nephrite's jaw. The phantasm had to take a step back lest Masato's next attack break several of his ribs. Once he saw that Masato was indeed going to make a stand Nephrite altered his tactics and allowed opening after opening to present the illusion that Sanjouin Masato was wearing him down and winning the fight.

"I have to say I'm impressed!" Nephrite mocked the other man, "I didn't think you would have remembered how to fight after all these years!"

"You don't know when to shut up, do you?" Masato bit back.

Makoto stirred on the ground as the melee between the two men continued. The room seemed hazy and her body was pounding with fatigue. Every move she made was met with muscle and bone in vehement protest. When her eyes fell on Nephrite and Masato she gasped, regardless if her mouth could even make a sound.

It was like watching a man wrestle with his own shadow, she thought. While the men looked almost physically identical, something inside warned Makoto that they were two distinct beings. She couldn't be entirely sure but this man in gray who called himself Nephrite was some kind of evil caricature of the man she loved, or thought she loved at any rate. Confusion and doubt raged around her like a storm. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore. The whole situation was mind-boggling, like something from a movie that shouldn't actually be happening in real life. Nevertheless she couldn't deny what she was seeing.

What would be the outcome of this battle? What would they say to each other when it was over, if Masato came out the victor, that is? The argument in the car about Makoto's violent tendencies was probably the biggest fight they'd ever had, but something like this was rather life altering. She felt the need to jump in and aid her senpai but at the same time she was content just to sit and watch. Somewhere deep inside a voice was telling her that she was powerless. This was not a fight she could take sides in because it was not a fight on traditional terms. These two men were not sparring for victory; they were clawing away at each other's very essence. Each was fighting for themselves as if nothing else mattered.

All at once her train of thought derailed as Masato spun into a flying kick to Nephrite's midsection that threw the villain into a wall with such impossible force that Makoto actually jumped where she sat. Masato had displayed his impressive physical condition in the past when he would easily lift her off the ground in a bear hug or carry her to bed when she'd passed out in front of his television. This was unlike any feat of strength she'd ever seen. It was as if the earth itself rose up from the floorboards and flung Nephrite across the room with the force of a tidal wave. Masato's body itself now seemed to pulse with an otherworldly red glow. Confused but still aware of Masato's situation the young woman stood and began to move closer.

Nephrite lay motionless on the ground for a moment before his hand shot out and tried to swipe at Masato's ankles but the other man was faster. He caught Nephrite's hand beneath his heel and crushed it, simultaneously reaching down and dragging the murderer by his collar to the center of the room. Masato lunged down and pinned Nephrite to the ground, wrapping his hands around his throat and baring his teeth in a vengeful grin.

"I knew you could do it!" Nephrite chuckled salutatory.

"Masato, don't!" Makoto suddenly yelled and both men turned to face her.

She looked broken and betrayed through Masato's eyes and he very nearly released his hold on the creature beneath him. Makoto wouldn't be able to understand what he was doing. Hell, he didn't even understand himself, but he knew that something had to be done. Below in his iron grasp Nephrite could only laugh through the painful, staccato breaths he was catching.

"Mako-chan," Masato said quietly, eerily content, "I'm glad you came with me today. I told you I couldn't do this alone."

"You _can't_ do this, Masato!" she cried angrily, "What about everything you told me on the way over here? You're just going to throw away the person you've become?"

"No." he said with unnerving finality.

All of a sudden the house groaned against an unseen wind that tossed the furniture around the room like leaves. Makato had to drop to the ground and clutch the wall to avoid being pummeled by flying tables and chairs. Masato's hair blew straight back as an amber light shone between him and the creature known as Nephrite lying on the ground beneath him. A terrific shriek forced Makoto's eyes shut as her eardrums reeled against the shock. She passed out, for how long she couldn't say, but the world she saw in that magical daze was a bleak one.

The landscape was a dull, lifeless plateau of slate and ash. Rocks like talons sprung out from gray crevices. The massive underground cavern was devoid of color or beauty. Depressing colored moss covered some of the bland rock face but no plants grew. In the distance she could see a massive skull-shaped object carved into the side of a mountain; nearby stood a castle hewn from the unnatural rock that surrounded her. This strange place felt frighteningly familiar but altogether alien. She couldn't place it: she knew where she was and yet she didn't. Why she was even in a place like this was an even bigger mystery.

As suddenly as it had come the vision was gone and she was standing a choking cloud. She realized it was the smoke rising from piles of debris of what used to be the living room of Sanjouin Takeshi's house. She turned quickly and ran for the door when she hit something solid and warm. Her eyes shot up as two hands grabbed her wrists and swung her around into the kitchen and into the light. Brown eyes stared back at her, full of conflicting emotions. The auburn hair was his, the chiseled jaw too, but he was wearing that awful gray uniform she'd seen on Nephrite. Makoto snapped immediately and tried to tear herself out of the murderer's grasp but he held her far too strongly. He was so unnaturally strong …

"Mako-chan, it's all right!" a familiar voice called to her from under the façade of the Shadow Killer, "It's me!"

"No!" she shouted back, "Let go of me!"

"Stop it!" he pleaded, "Mako-chan, calm down!"

"You're not him!" Makoto openly cried as her steely exterior began to break down, "You're not Masato!"

"No, I'm not," the man replied sorrowfully and surprised her, "I'm not Sanjouin Masato anymore."

Makoto suddenly realized the truth of his words. There was something undeniably different about this man. It was a subtle notion that she couldn't fully explain but it wasn't the man she'd met on the street that day after she stepped on his glasses. It also wasn't the murderous villain she'd just seen fighting with her senpai. This man was different. He was quiet and collected, sure of himself, and decisive. It was as if the two men had become … one?

"I don't know how much time I have so I'm just going to say this," he said regretfully, "Without you I would have never known the joys of life again."

"Stop talking like that, Masato-senpai!" she stammered still openly weeping, "What's happened to you?"

"Something you wouldn't understand," he replied cryptically, "At least, not yet."

"Not yet?" Makoto asked, now growing impatient, "What is that supposed to mean?"

Masato chuckled and released his hold on her wrists and took a step back, admiring the young girl he'd grown to love over the past few months. For as brief as it had been, their love had been strong and deep. His heart, what was left of it, broke when he realized he could never go back to her.

"I once knew a girl," he said thoughtfully, "A long, long time ago. She was a princess who liked to prove that she wasn't a pushover and one day she picked a fight with an auburn haired warlord. He won the fight, but she won his heart."

"What are you talking about?" she demanded.

He continued speaking as though she wasn't even there, "Whatever happens never forget that I love you. I always have and I always will."

His words were deep, as though he'd said them to her before even though she was sure he hadn't. It was as if he knew exactly where to reach in her soul to bring her joy and comfort. He seemed old standing over her with his intense gaze fixed on her quivering emerald eyes. A sense of timelessness rang about that kitchen. For all she knew they could have been standing in a field or on the parapets of an ancient castle. It was such a familiar feeling. Was this it? Was this that true love she'd only fantasized about in fairy tales?

The man who at one time was Sanjouin Masato gestured to the doorway and a dark hole ripped open in the very air permeating the room with cold static energy. Makoto snapped back to attention and saw the deformation in reality and began to panic.

"Masato, you can't leave me!" she shouted, somehow knowing full well where that dark portal led, "What the hell is even going on here? You can't do this!"

"I have to," he replied, "It's the only way."

"The only way to what?" she roared at him, "Why are you doing this to me? I thought you cared about me, how can you just leave me alone again?"

"This is the only way to keep you safe," he replied matter-of-factly, "You'll understand someday why I had to do this."

"Let me go with you!" Makoto desperately pleaded, "I don't care where or for how long. Just let me stay with you!"

"You can't follow me where I'm going," He cried back.

"Damn you, Sanjouin Masato!" she screamed at him, "Why can you just see that I need you?!"

"You don't need me, Mako-chan!" Masato assured her, "There are going to be people that you meet who are going to count on you to keep them safe. You can't have any hesitation and you can't have any distraction," he smiled at her, "You'll understand someday."

He bent down to the startled girl and kissed her on the lips, bringing his right hand up to her forehead where a blue spark of energy rendered the school girl unconscious in his grasp. A brilliant flash of green light nearly blinded him as a curious image like a birthmark appeared on Makoto's forehead: the astrological sign of Jupiter. Masato muttered a phrase in an ancient language to ensure Makoto would have no memory of the last few moments and made sure she would assume they had simply parted ways.

"When I first met you, you said you were glad there were still some genuinely good people left in the world," Masato whispered into her ear, "I hope that's how you'll remember me."

Masato gently laid the unconscious girl on the kitchen floor and gestured with his hand, invoking a spell that spirited her away from the ruined home to her own bed in her own apartment many miles away. He sighed heavily and turned to the portal he'd created and walked inside. Space and time distorted around him and when he emerged the cold gray caverns of a dark kingdom greeted him. His boots clacked and clamored against the shale ground as he instinctively made his way to a grand hall.

There was already a crowd there: hundreds of grotesque creatures staring hypnotically at the approaching man. He made his way boldly and determinedly through the rank and file of the horrid creatures to a throne that stood at the end of the hall. Three men clad in identical uniforms as his own stood to the right side of an enormous skull-shaped throne upon which sat a menacing beauty: a woman of commanding height and seductive build. A torrent of fiery red hair danced around her like flames. He stopped only a few steps before the throne and clasped a hand over his breast, bowing reverently to the red-haired witch.

"Nephrite," she greeted him affectionately, "You've finally come back to us."

"My apologies for my long absence," Nephrite spoke, "You have my allegiance once more, Queen Beryl."

"It has been too long since my Shitennou last stood before me," Beryl observed with a maniacal gleam in her eye, "But now at last our great work can begin."

The other three Shitennou bowed along with Nephrite who internally wrestled with the lingering voice of Sanjouin Masato. The disguise of the millionaire would no doubt serve him well in the Dark Kingdom's campaign but the risk was still present: what if his shadow gained control again? What if the man Nephrite had truly been took over? He shook his head in protest. There would be time to deal with that later. Now there was much work to be done.

He would clear his mind with in audience with the stars …

* * *

Once again Makoto had made a bad situation worse. Not only did she have to deal with the harsh breakup of the first man she ever loved but she was being kicked out of school on top of it. At least the administration was willing to transfer her to a different school in the Juuban district and not just expel her outright. Things just hadn't been going her way lately. It was on the walk back to her apartment after shopping one day that it hit her: she was never truly going to be rid of him.

Sanjouin Masato had broken her heart, but he had also taught her a valuable lesson: people you love are with you forever, no matter where they are. She'd lost track of him after their last furious argument but now it seemed more than ever he was on her mind. She wanted to go to him, to try and make things right but something was holding her back. She passed the Gemini Corporation building every day but something told her not to bother looking for him. It was as if she knew he just wasn't there.

To make matters worse every man she saw now seemed to remind her of that first volatile love. Every crop of brown hair was his, every sharp pair of eyes, every easy laugh or contemplative sigh. She would never be quit of him. He would always be on her mind. The least she could do would be to remember all the happiness they shared, all the long talks they had about nothing, all those sappy romantic drabbles they told to each other when they thought no one was listening. She entertained a fanciful thought: could true love exist even when two people aren't meant to be together.

In the back of her mind she knew something about the whole situation felt wrong but again, there was that feeling that she should just let it go and move on. It was hard, of course, but it was the only thing she could do. She was staring out fresh at a new school. She'd have the chance to make a new impression on people and maybe get out there and make some new friends. Maybe, just maybe one day she would appear in his doorway again and see if the flame could be rekindled. Her romantic spirit returned to her and she filed the notion away for later consideration.

This new school was full of people who were going to want to know every detail and every dirty little scrap of information about her. The best she could do would be to regale them with the tragic tale of her first love and the legendary story of her old senpai.

**The End**


	6. Author's Notes

I love Author's Notes sections. It makes me feel like I'm doing a DVD special feature. 

A lot of readers seemed to be hung up on the relationship between Sanjouin Masato and Nephrite. I admit I knew what was going on in my head but I kind of deliberately wanted to leave it up to the reader's imagination. Are they the same person? Is Nephrite an evil twin? Etc, etc ... If you are familiar with the original Sailor Moon manga maybe you interpreted it the way I originally saw it:

In the manga, Nephrite always attacked the Senshi with his "shadow" which was kind of like a shapeless youma but more like an extension of himself. I tried to use that idea in this story but I switched it around to make the murderous Nephrite character out to be Sanjouin Masato's shadow. Masato is unaware of his title as one of the Shitennou and so his latent powers ended up creating this evil Nephrite creature from all the pent-up anger and rage inside him from when he was a kid.

In the end Masato decides to merge with Nephrite. He certainly can't let Nephrite go or he'd just keep on killing people including Makoto, but at the same time he couldn't kill Nephrite in cold blood or he'd just turn into the monster himself. By trying to control Nephrite he actually does exactly what the villain wants and he sort of becomes his "true self." In the end Nephrite ends up winning but Masato is actually the hero from a moral standpoint. He did the right thing.

I'm more of a fantasy and straight action writer but sometimes I dabble in romance and for this project I thought Makoto & Nephrite would make a worthy story. Makoto is a character who, despite her outward friendliness and independence, needs constant affection and companionship. She is lonely and she's looking for that knight in shining armor to be there as her rock and her support. Nephrite is the kind of guy who can provide that with his macho man attitude and percariously deep emotionalism. Of all the Senshi x Shitennou ships I think this one is the most fun to write about.

If you're interested in other things I've written I've only got my in-progress epic "Sojourn" posted here at the moment. I'm in the process of mirroring all my fanfics from Aria's Ink so stay tuned for more shenanigans.

Stay frosty,

Adins

PS to all who inquired: Yes, I'm a guy.


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